#and I’m supposed to finish and present my graduate or not project literally Wednesday

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

god !!!!!!

[winter-soldier-vibes]

just a wittle request, could you do something where bucky comforts the reader who has mommy issues after she has a panic attack over the thought of turning out like her mother?

Hi there, sorry this took so long! I still haven’t processed my own so I had to take a few breaks. I apologize if this is off the path of what you meant, I’m going off of my own experience but I know it’s different for everyone.

You're nothing like her.

Bucky x reader

Word count: 3219

Warnings: mommy issues, toxic childhood, talk of divorce, panic attack/anxiety, negative self-talk

A/N: This takes place in a timeline where Bucky is retired

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You did everything you could to avoid it. To avoid her

You left home as soon as you could. When you were in college you were surrounded by people who were homesick, people who wanted to go home, people who finally had to take care of themselves. Things you couldn’t relate to.

You had been supporting yourself most of your life. Not that you had much of a choice. Your dad left when you were younger, your mother blaming it on you. If you had been better, maybe he wouldn’t have left. You, being young, believed her. What else were you supposed to do, growing up in a world that preaches ‘mother knows best’?

Load of bullshit to you.

You knew better now, being an adult, that she didn’t know best. She worked or went out with friends and left you to raise yourself, telling you it was your fault when she neglected her responsibilities. And when you would get upset she would play the victim, crying ‘woe is me’ because you were so ungrateful to the person who raised you after you drove her husband out.

“You know it’s your fault right?” she had snapped at you one night at dinner. There was a graded paper, a B written on the top of it.

“What?”

“You’re the reason he left me. He just couldn’t stand you. You’re the reason why he left and why I’m so miserable now.”

You had felt tears in your eyes.

“Tears, really? Tears aren't going to change the fact that MY husband LEFT.”

Her husband, not your father.

No, you knew better now to know that what she had done and said was wrong. But that didn’t make you forget. It didn’t make it any easier for you.

You went to college, saved up as much as you could, and gave tight-lipped smiles when people asked why you didn’t go home on weekends or vacations. You tried not to talk about her much, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about her.

You had stood at your college graduation, caps thrown and loud laughs and cheers echoing around. There were a bunch of people celebrating around you, taking photos, but you had stood on the outskirts. You had a small smile on your face for everyone else, but you couldn’t help but feel empty inside. You hadn’t made many friends, not close friends, but that was a good thing. You could take the photo so no one was left out.

Not so much of a text from her. She hadn’t come, she hadn’t called or anything.

In a twisted way, you were glad that she hadn’t. She couldn’t make a big deal about how you weren’t the top of your class or how you didn’t deserve to be. How you didn’t have a job set up to start the next week even though you already were planning on submitting your resumes. There wasn’t a way to please her, so it was almost better that she wasn’t there.

You had texted her after a few days and she made up some bullshit excuse that she had forgotten to put it on the calendar.

She liked your Instagram photo though. So thoughtful

You worried you would turn out the same way. Or that she had rubbed off on you in some way. You kept to yourself as much as you could, staying in, keeping your emotions to yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust people, maybe it was, but more so you were worried that you would seem like you were playing the victim.

You didn’t want to bother anyone or make anyone feel obligated to listen to you. You worried that behind your back they would complain about you being emotional or making everything about you.

You worried they would talk about you the same way you thought about your mother.

People are supposed to look to their parents to teach them what to be, yet you found yourself wanting to avoid everything your parents did to you. They taught you exactly who you didn’t want to be.

Your father left. Your mother hated you.

You didn’t share your opinions because you didn’t want to be told you were wrong. You didn’t want to force your ideas onto anyone. Not like what you said would make a difference anyway, not that it mattered in the first place.

You remembered all of the sentences you would start but not finish because no one had heard you. Trying to jump in a few times and eventually giving up when the conversation had moved onto a new subject. All the times people would interrupt or interject, making you feel like you didn’t have something to say that was worth hearing.

You thought it would get better when you got a job. But the pressure you put on yourself to do well in school was transferred to the job you had gotten. You still were afraid that people saw yourself as your mom used to and that you would never be good enough for anyone. You thought that achievements would make you feel fulfilled.

But if you didn’t believe in yourself, what were a few “job well done's” supposed to do?

It made it hard to get into a relationship. People say that “you have to love yourself before you can love someone else,” but that didn’t feel so true to you. It was more that you didn’t trust yourself to love someone else. You worried about hurting whoever you were with, and you told yourself that if you didn’t get close to anyone, you couldn’t hurt them.

But then you ran into him.

He was on a morning run and you were walking home from a night shift, both too tired to see each other coming. You because you had just finished a shift, him because he was running off the nightmare he had had the night previous. Both of you craving a sleep that seemed just out of reach.

You were very apologetic, as was he, both afraid that you had hurt the other. You avoided his eyes even though they were trained anywhere but your own, as he fiddled with his gloved hands and you scratched the back of your neck.

It was the first time either of you had seen someone as unsure as yourselves

You had parted ways with only each other's names. Bucky and y/n.

The two of you crossed paths a few times in the following weeks, eventually getting each other’s phone numbers and agreeing to meet for coffee rather than hoping the other left at the right time. Eventually, the subtle nervous tics each of you had died down as you got to know each other.

For the most part.

You still overly apologized for everything. If you were a few minutes late, if you spaced out...you took the blame for everything.

Traffic had been bad, a storm and an accident causing you to be 5 minutes late rather than 15 minutes early. You had run into the coffee shop, scanning the restaurant with wide eyes when you saw Bucky sitting there casually.

“I am so so so sorry, I should’ve left earlier, there was an accident, I’m so sorry I’m late -”

“Y/n, don’t worry about it,” he had said, a smile on his face and a slight flash of concern on his face. “Seriously, it’s a couple of minutes. It’s literally fine.”

“No, I’m really sorry, I should’ve known or called or something.”

“Relax. It’s totally fine, I promise,” he had said, concern a little more present on his face. “Are you okay though?”

“What? Yeah, I’m good. How have you been with everything?

You wouldn’t let him talk about you. The same way your mother never let you talk about yourself.

Don’t think about her.

He had started opening up to you but you still kept your personal life under lock and key. Your name, how work was, and your physical well-being was about as personal as you got. Even so, if work had been a shit show or you had to pull an all-nighter would go unspoken. He didn’t need the burden of your personal issues. Not when there was nothing he could do about it.

The past was the past, you just had to learn how to get over yourself.

You couldn’t change what your mother had said over a decade ago.

You worried if you talked about yourself at all then you would be making the situation about you. You worried you would project your anger or sadness onto him. He didn’t deserve that. Plus, it wasn’t like he would be able to do anything, right?

You promised yourself you wouldn’t let him get too close. That if he didn’t get close to you, you couldn’t hurt him.

But damn, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t start developing feelings for him. And from the way he had started acting, you thought maybe he was too.

The hugs that were ever so slightly too tight or when he smiled at you a little longer than normal. He had opened up to you about many things in his past, and from the way he talked about it, you could tell he hadn’t talked about it much with anyone else.

You found comfort in your friendship, the way he trusted you. You liked being there for him, and you were honored that he trusted you enough to open up to you. Yet it also made you uneasy that you would ruin it in some way or drive him out.

The same way your mom drove out your father.

Goddamn it don’t think about her.

The closer you got and the closer you and Bucky had gotten, the more nervous you were. That you would turn out like your mother. You were having a harder time keeping to yourself, keeping up the façade that everything was all bright in your world. You wanted to be a light for everyone.

But at some point, days turn to nights and the light gives way to the darkness.

And you weren’t sure how much time you had left before you cracked.

Bucky had started making small moves towards you, and you were trying your best to deflect them in efforts to not fall flat on your face for him. He came over Wednesday nights for a movie and take out with you, and what started as being on two opposite ends of the couch had moved to being next to each other to him having his arm wrapped around you. Sometimes you felt he was a little too close and you would either shift away or get up to grab another drink or ‘use the bathroom’.

When you came back you would make an attempt to sit a bit further away.

Sometimes when Bucky would say goodbye at the end of the night he would hug you. That was nothing new, you were both big on hugs, but lately, he had been hugging you longer or tighter, lingering a few moments longer than could be platonic. You had started ending the hugs earlier, giving him a small squeeze before pulling away.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with Bucky. It was that you were so scared that you would drive him away, leaving you as soon as you had started calling yourself his.

Which is what brought you here. Bucky had come over for another one of your movie nights and had his arm behind the couch rather than around you. An invitation for you to curl into his side, but he wanted you to make that choice. Eventually, you had found yourself curled up with him, his arm wrapped around you, and you could feel the tension.

You wanted to move away before you found yourself in too deep, but you couldn’t resist. It had been a long day and you found comfort with Bucky. Bucky turned his face slightly towards yours, kissing the side of your temple and you felt butterflies in your stomach. Your mind told you to shift away, to not let him get too close, but you found yourself turning your head towards Bucky and he leaned forward to kiss you gently.

After a moment you broke away, emotion taking over you. “I’m sorry, Bucky, I - I can’t do this,” you said, resting your forehead against his.

“Why not?” Bucky whispered, looking into your eyes.

Because I’ll hurt you.

I’ll disappoint you.

I’ll drive you away and I can’t lose the best thing that’s happened to me.

You sighed, standing up and moving away from Bucky. You couldn’t say those things to him out loud. Not without the entire story. And you weren’t ready to share all of that with him.

Bucky stood up with you, afraid he had just ruined the friendship or whatever relationship he had with you. “Y/n, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You had already left the room and couldn’t really hear him over the sound of your thoughts.

This wasn’t supposed to happen

I wasn’t supposed to let this happen

How could I be so stupid?

You were feeling tears in your eyes and Bucky followed you, afraid of what he did. Your breathing was picking up and you had started mumbling some of these things to yourself.

“Y/n, what’s happening, what did I do?”

You shook your head “You didn’t do anything, but I need you to leave, please,” you said, trying to hide your emotions. You hated being like this.

“I’m not going anywhere y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Get the fuck out of here Bucky! I don’t want your help!” you snapped suddenly, Bucky looking taken aback before your eyes widened.

“Oh god…”

You shook your head and started crying harder, stumbling over your words. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that, I didn’t mean to yell, I’m so sorry Bucky please don’t leave I'm so sorry.”

Bucky came forward and hugged you gently and you cried into his shirt. He whispered comforting words into your ear as you tried to breathe, embarrassed at how vulnerable you were being.

Bucky kept his breathing slow and even, trying to get you to match him. He had no idea what was happening but he knew he needed you to calm down before he asked. Whatever it was had to be something deep, and you weren’t in the space to talk about it right now.

He brought you over to sit on the corner of your bed, still hugging you as you cried. You were mumbling out apology after apology but Bucky wasn’t having any of it. He kept hugging you, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere and that you were safe. He had never seen you so upset, or upset at all to begin with.

After you had calmed down a bit, Bucky asked you again what had happened. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“I’ve opened up about so many things to you, right?” he pulled back to look at you.

You nodded slightly.

“And you’ve never judged me for any of it.”

You shook your head this time.

“Then why can’t you let me do the same for you?”

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together, still confused. “Y/n, you’ve been the nicest person I’ve ever met. How would you hurt me?”

You were already shaking your head. “No, see, that’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna be nice and sweet and...and I’m gonna fall in love with you, and you’re gonna fall in love with me. A-and then I’m gonna let you down over and over again and snap at you for things that aren’t your fault and...and you’ll get sick of it and leave and I’m going to hate myself for it, okay?”

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Bucky held your shoulders as they started shaking. You brought a hand to cover your mouth, Bucky hushing you again. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

You took a shaky breath as you ran a hand over your face. “I’m just like her, Bucky. I told myself I would never let myself be like her…”

“Like who?” Bucky asked, blood already boiling at who made you feel like this.

Her.

You weren’t supposed to think about her.

You promised yourself.

“Y/n, stay with me here,” he said, guiding your face back to look at him. “Who?”

“My mother.”

Bucky looked at you for a moment. “What?”

“You know, mothers bring you into the world. They say a mother knows when something is wrong with their kid, that babies are put on their mother’s chest because the skin-to-skin contact starts the bonding process. They’re supposed to protect you, and love you, and take care of you. But then you start to get older and it’s your fault that you were born when you didn’t ask, or your dad left and it’s your fault before you even knew he was gone. All I wanted was to be told what to do and all she would do is tell me what I did wrong. I can’t be like her and the older I get the more scared I am that I’m going to hurt everyone the way that she hurt my father and me.”

You had started crying again as Bucky looked at you, both broken-hearted and furious that someone would make you feel this way. Not to mention it was your own mother.

You took another shaky breath. “I thought the world of her when I was younger. And she barely even gave me the time of day. I keep telling myself that I’m not what she thought of me, but what if I am?” you shook your head again. “And I am so scared that I’m just like her.”

“Y/n, look at me, I need you to look at me when I say this, okay?” he cupped your face with both hands, wiping away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as he looked into your eyes. “You are nothing like your mother.”

You let out a small sob. “You don’t know her.”

“I don’t need to,” he said firmly. “You are kind and gentle. You work hard and you make sure that everyone is taken care of before you even consider yourself. You aren’t going to scare me away or hurt me.” He wiped fresh tears from your eyes. “You are your own person, your mother has no say in who you get to be. Who you are. You are not your mother, and you never will be.” he said, still holding your gaze.

You held his gaze a little longer, knowing he believed what he was saying. You didn’t, not quite yet, but maybe if he believed in you, you could too. You nodded slightly, giving him the smallest of smiles. “Thank you.”

Bucky returned the small smile. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too,” you said, smiling.

You meant it, and you knew he did too. And maybe one day, you would love who you’d become too.

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tags: @babydaddy-buckybarnes @buckys-blue-eyes @buckys2thicc @broadwaybabe18 @peggycarter-steverogers @im-sick-of-failing @barnesplums @bucks-bunny @mardema @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @thatfangirl42 @strawberrimae @sup--ernova

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[alley-cat-sunflower]

Status update!

Hello! Alley here, finally!

You may have noticed I’ve vanished from the face of the earth lately. In case my terse and sporadic update posts aren’t enough to tell you why I’ve been so inaccessible, I think it’s about time I give you something to explain what I’ve been doing, and maybe even a promise to come back online sooner rather than later. (But it’s gonna get a little long, so I’m throwing this under a cut. I apologize to those of you who can’t see it.)

As most of you know, I’m in my last semester of college. More importantly, I’m so far along in said last semester that I literally just have to take one final a week from today—the day before graduation, actually—and then I’m home fucking free after five years of torment!!!

Anyway, the whole semester has been super busy, what with holding down an internship and three classes all required for graduation (and that pressure has been real). One of those classes was “Math and the Human Imagination”, which unsurprisingly involved analyzing imaginary numbers. I’m ashamed to admit that despite my favorite professor’s best efforts, the course did absolutely nothing to help my understanding of mathematics. Another of those classes was “Bollywood and Globalization”, which is the one in which I still have a final. I have hopes that I’ll do well, if only because I’ve enjoyed the course enough to pay attention.

The last class was my “Senior Synthesis”, which purports itself the crowning experience of a Liberal Studies major, in which you can basically do whatever the fuck you want as long as you can present it to the class in the form of a speech/slideshow, a poster, and an essay. Because there are roughly three things I care about, I chose one of them and had an unironically marvelous time drawing a bazillion connections between BTS’s Bangtan Universe and Hermann Hesse’s Demian. I was scheduled to present in the first possible week, in mid-April, and spent 24 total hours out of the weekend before pulling together my presentation (because I’m broken and think that’s fun—I’d have spent just as much time on it even if I hadn’t had to for the project). As part of it, I made a six-minute video you can watch here if you like, which showcases some of the specific connections I examined.

Speaking of BTS in conjunction with April, though, that brings me to their new album. And can I just say, holy shit. I still wasn’t over “Intro: Persona” by the time the whole thing dropped, so every time I listen to the album, I’m shook all over again to this day. Thanks to timezone shenanigans, my mother the ARMY had me wake her at 1:45am on April 12 so we could be awake for the festivities. We saw the “Boy with Luv” MV the moment it came out… and then proceeded to watch it with and without subs about five times. While that was going on, I bought Map of the Soul: Persona on iTunes the second it was available and burned a CD. After that, my mom suggested going out to a deserted parking lot and blasting it in the car so we could enjoy it at a decent volume, since we didn’t want to wake the neighbors. So we did, and let me tell you, hearing “Dionysus” for the first time at full volume in the dead of night can’t be beat. That whole adventure is a memory I’ll cherish forever.

There have been a lot of those lately, especially in conjunction with BTS, and this brings me to how absolutely insane this past week has been. I’d like to lead into last weekend by stating in no uncertain terms that I owe @lightningswrath​ my very life for managing to land us tickets to not one, but both BTS concerts at the Rose Bowl this past weekend. They were both indescribably beautiful, though the second one in particular was perfect—not least because I actually remembered to eat that day, so I was no longer trying to process overwhelming emotions on an empty stomach. However, the experience wasn’t as surreal as I expected; I did feel elevated, but also oddly grounded. Despite their awe-inspiring stage presence and sense of showmanship, the members are also so genuine as people that I couldn’t help but accept their presence in front of me.

(Incidentally, if you’re an ARMY and haven’t looked up Namjoon’s speech on 190505, please do; the man is a true sage and I feel incredibly honored to have heard such profound words in person. The only reason I didn’t record it myself was because I was so absorbed in the moment.)

Alas, every silver lining has its cloud. This past weekend has given me an unforgettable set of experiences in the best way, but I am most definitely suffering the consequences of not being able to do any schoolwork. We couldn’t leave until after my class a week ago, and we had to come back early enough on Monday that I could make it to my last math class and explain two chapters of a book I didn’t understand. On Tuesday, I had to attend the last day of my internship and then design and construct a poster, which I finished on Wednesday morning before completing a three-page evaluation of my math class—which was supposed to have been due on Monday, but I completely spaced it out—and then presenting my poster.

But That’s Not All. Yesterday, I wrote and turned in another three-page evaluation, this time of my internship, before immediately heading home to work on my synthesis essay, which was supposed to be 15 pages. Thankfully, I actually enjoy writing about all the crazy-detailed connections between BTS and Demian, but I still only finished it in the nick of time today (at a whopping 24 pages, not counting the works cited, because I can’t be brief when I’m busy being passionate) before heading to class. I had just gotten home from that when I started writing this post, and I’ll have to leave in another couple hours to go out dancing with some friends. After that, as mentioned, I only have one final left, and then I’ll have a degree in Liberal Studies with an English minor.

Which begs the question several people have already asked me: what next?

Thankfully, my internship has provided me with a ready answer, because they decided to ask me to come in as a paid part-timer over the summer! So I can at least tell people I’m going to be continuing my foray into the field of editing and publishing. But aside from career-related stuff, I also have a lot of things I’d like to do now that I won’t have academia weighing me down anymore. Enough that I can honestly make an entire list of… uh, goals? wishes? for the rest of the year:

Finish some of my ongoing fanfiction

Work on some of my original fiction

Find more time to write and post in general

Dance more often (and learn some BTS choreography)

Get into more K-pop (VAV, Monsta X, SHInee, etc.)

Help my mother sell stuff on eBay and pay back the $500 I owe her

Buy more BTS albums/merch and FFXV’s Episode Ardyn

Play and/or replay more video games, esp. otome

Plan my move up north with @chibitorra​

Move all my stuff out of my dad’s house

Sort through everything I own and get rid of half of it

Pick up my Japanese studies again

Maybe start learning Korean???

Watch more Bollywood films

Read more Hesse, Jung, and Nietzsche

I also intend to resume some of my online activities and become more socially accessible again, but I doubt I will ever be as active or consistent in any fandoms as I once was, although I hope to compensate for this by writing more for them. Given that my former fever-pitch of online activity was born of a desire to escape reality, and by now I’ve finally found more of a place in the real world, this is most certainly for the best.

Anyway, that’s the tale of where I’ve been, where I am now, and where I’m headed next! I hope that gives you something to work with if you’ve been curious about what I’ve been up to. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope life has been kind to you too!

[jasntodds]

(1/?) Hopefully your throat feels better, drink lots of water and tea helps! Okay, this is a pretty long story that ties into how I'm doing, right now I'm doing alright! I was super stressed though lmao anyways... So about a month ago, for one of my TOK (theory of knowledge class), we were assigned a group presentation and for some reason, everyone already had groups. I only have the class once a week so I'm just going to wait until next week to find a group.

(2/?) The next week happens and everyone in my class already has a group. At the end of that week, a TOK teacher (different than mine) came up to me and told me that there were five people who didn't have a group and I was one of them. So I asked him who didn't have a group and he doesn't have the list on me and tells me to ask my teacher. That was the same week I flew out to Iowa so I couldn't talk to my teacher at school the next day. (3/?) I wait until I have that class again, talk to my teacher and at this point, there are only two groups that I can join because the rest of them are already full groups. I know both of the people in one group so I tell him that I'll talk to one of the guys in that group because I had him in my next class. I talk to the guy in the two person group and ask if I can join. He's says that it's alright if I join and that he just needs to ask the other person first (4/?) (and I know the other person and worked on projects with her in the past so I knew that she would say yes). And then two days later, I ask the guy again just to confirm that I'm in their group and he tells me that I'm not because they've been FORMATTING THE PRESENTATION so much that I would be be too far behind if I joined. So he fucked me over really bad and he was like "I'm so sorry" and I respectfully said that it was alright because I didn't want to be rude but this guy pisses me off. (5/?) This is a week and a half before the presentation. So I email my teacher that weekend explaining the situation and I asked him if he'd send my the contact information of the people in the other group. And I have terrible migraines all that week at school (this was last week) to the point of where one day, I went to the ER and I went to school three times and I didn't get the chance to see my TOK teacher at all. (6/?) He sends me an email on that WEDNESDAY that tells me to prepare the presentation by myself and to do it on my own so my own teacher screwed me too. So I'm pissed because I have to do a presentation that is an IB graduation requirement that's supposed to be a GROUP PRESENTATION (and most people who do it on their own fail because it's freaking hard to do alone) on my own. (7/?) So my entire weekend was trying to figure how the fuck I was supposed to make and format the presentation because it's on how we know what we know and it was super confusing. I finish it in my second period class the day I had to present (yesterday) and present it the next period after going through it one time. (8/8) And I fucking nailed it. I was so proud of myself and it just flowed really really well together. (also sidenote, but the guy who fucked me over did a shitty job on his so I guess karma's a bitch :')) And that's my story. 

HOLY FUCK DUDE. I’m so proud of you!!!! Like I know damn well that shit was not easy and you worked your ass off!! It’s bullshit your teacher ended up being one of thepeople to fuck you over but apparently, it doesn’t even matter cause you just pull shit off. That’s literally insane dude. AND WE LOVE KARMA. siodfhj I’m so happy for you!

[type-a-nomad]

April-- how time flies when you’re growing.

We haven’t heard from Rowan since Thursday.  None of Tim’s messages are delivering and it’s very concerning.  I don’t think I emphasized enough in my last post how much Tim has done for him.  It’s very rare to meet people in the world who really understand how to change a life.  You can’t do it quickly.  You can’t do it with many people.  But with time and focus, you can completely change the life of a single individual.  In Tim’s case, over the course of the last 7 months, he has changed a handful of kids’ lives.  Give a man a fish and he won’t go hungry that night.  Teach a man to fish and he won’t go hungry for the rest of his life.  Most volunteers are giving fish.  Tim has mastered teaching kids to fish. On Wednesday, I had project in the morning and it was wonderful.  The school had a sports day because it was the last day before school break and nobody had classes.  We just sat outside and chilled with the kids and helped set up for the sports day.  When the sports day started, it was so adorable.  All of the kids are on different color teams.  It’s all mixed ages and it seems like once you’re placed on a color team, that’s your team until you graduate from the primary school.  All the teachers were on different teams too.  Each team was singing songs and doing dances.  The yellow team was particularly spirited.  The little kids started with races.  That means they sent one 4 year old girl as sacrifice to run around the sporting area four times.  By the last lap, their little bodies were so tired they were all close to tears.  This was then repeated with a different set of 4 year old boys sacrificed to the games this time.  They were all clearly very confused as to why they were made to do this.  My fellow volunteers and I were appointed as the judges and we handed out the prizes for the first second and third places of each race.  This means we sent an exhausted, sad, and scared four year old away with nothing while the three other tiny humans in her race got to stand on literal pedestals while the principal read out their names and their team color while everyone else cheered.   Thursday we had Holiday Club.  Holiday Club is my new day-project.  The kids are in between school terms and there is a break until April 10th.  That means, until then, we take the kids out each day to a different activity.  It’s totally amazing because you get to really bond with the kids in a way tutoring doesn’t allow you to.  The actual activity is socializing with the kids— whatever plan Holiday Club has that day is entirely secondary.  The planned project for Thursday was a huge beach day for the kids.  I was really excited because I love the kids and I love the beach— so saying this was ideal is an understatement.  Sadly, Mother Nature was not on the same page as the rest of us and decided to rain.  What are the odds of that happening.  We are in the worst draught possibly in recorded history and the one day it rains is our super cool beach day.  This was probably bad karma from all the times I take my friends food when we are out to lunch and they go to the bathroom.   The SAVE Foundation is fantastic in many ways— organization is not one of those ways. Planning and logistics fall under the umbrella of organization.  Planning a beach day for 50 12 year old kids is already a stretch.  Re-planning a day that now is rained out but the 50 kids are still coming anyways is like asking a miniature pony to carry Shaquille O’Neal: it’s so unrealistic it’s almost rude.  The kids show up at my house.  This is not an exaggeration.  I walk downstairs at 10am ready to volunteer and there are 50 12 year old children staring back up at me on the equivalent of our lawn.   Our back up plan was arts and crafts.  This was a shitty back up plan.  First of all, 12 year olds are way too old to be looked in the eye and told that they’re about to spend their day doing arts and crafts.  Second of all, where the hell are we going to do said arts and crafts.  The answer to the latter issue was my living room.  The kids were split into four groups and we put each group in one of the living rooms in the adjoining houses at Dunbar.  The arts and crafts went less poorly than expected, which amazed me because the arts and crafts weren't just arts and crafts, they were bad arts and crafts.  The first thing we made was paper mache balloons.  They weren't even paper mache, we used newspaper and water mixed with flour to glue them to the balloons.  It was very soggy.  The point was that we were going to paint them when they dried.  This never happened.   On top of the bad plan, it wasn't even executed well.  I found this very annoying.  The way that the SAVE operates is that there are two types of volunteers: normal volunteers and interns.  The majority of us are regular volunteers.  Interns lead more and pay less to be in the program.  This is all fine and well except that you don’t have to be more qualified than a volunteer to be an intern, there isn't even an interview.  Moreover, a lot of the interns are actually more introverted than the volunteers.  That makes no sense to me because if these kids smell any kind of weakness or timidness, they will eat you alive.  I am an extrovert and even I need to be at the peak of my game and outgoing and measured self while I’m working with the kids.  During the crafts day, the interns honestly failed.  There was very little communication.  The supplies weren't distributed.  The interns weren’t stepping up to get the situation under control.  I ended up organizing the group that I was with, while the interns were pretty quiet and watched it happen.  This is not to say they are lazy or bad people— they’re just the kind of people who are easy to walk over, and if the kids sense that they will take advantage of it immediately.   While we were all waiting for the crafts to actually be organized and the supplies to be distributed, I organized a dance competition to keep the kids busy so they wouldn't just destroy the house to keep themselves occupied.  Then, I sat around and talked to the kids who didn't want to dance.  One of them is this kid Damien who I know well from tutoring.  He’s 13 and much taller than I am.  I think he might have a little crush on me, but not to the point where he is too nervous to hang out.  He is an artist and his mom said he can go to art school at 16.  This is a huge deal for a kid out of Dunoon where the unemployment rate is through the roof.  We made a pact last week to make each other drawings and so I went and grabbed drawing supplies and made him a little drawing.  Then some of the other kids wanted drawings too.  I spent the rest of the day making them drawings while they did various activities.  It was so cute because whenever I finished, I saw the kid run around and show everyone, including the volunteers, their present.  In South Africa, a barbecue is called a Braai.  At the end of the day, I told Shannon about the problems with the interns and basically Braai-ed them.  That is to say, I turned on my fire and charred their work— or lack thereof. A while ago I talked about a kid named Danroy who was very difficult but I got him interested in the material we were working on and it ended up being very rewarding.  He was there are the crafts day and was very attached to me.  He gave me so much affection and hugs.  It was amazing to see how my softness and kindness made him less hard.  He’s a really tough and aggressive kid—to the point where he has been kicked off of the program before for several months.  On Wednesday he was the sweetest kid.  Whenever I saw him getting aggressive or violent, I could catch his eye and he would back down.  It was so moving to inspire kindness in somebody, because I don’t think you can be unkind to other people if you are kind to yourself.  This means that when he is causing pain for other people, it is because he is in pain.  So, when he backs away and is kind to people, he is easier on himself too.  Or at least I hope that’s the case, because I can tell that his hardness is trained. His natural state is vulnerable and a little scared.  He just needs a hug, a grilled cheese, and to be asked how his day was.  I told him that I was so proud of him when he was kind to people and the look on his face when he felt believed in made my heart so full.   Thursday night I went out with my friends.  It was fantastic.  We went out dancing and when we got back we stayed up outside on the lawn and had a dance party with all of the music the kids showed me during the dance competition I had organized in my living room earlier that day.   The next morning I was supposed to go surfing, but I didn’t even finish my dance party until 3am and needed a grilled cheese after to recover from all the exercise, so I didn’t even get into bed before 4am.  Needless to say, I was in no mood to surf at 8am.  I decided to try and sleep instead.  That didn’t happen.  I ended up making a nice breakfast instead.  I’ve learned how to make scrambled eggs in the microwave here and it’s very handy.  After that, I felt kind of crappy all day from lack of sleep and took a nap. After my nap I still didn't feel great so I decided to go run and jump in the ocean.  Everyone thought I was crazy because the ocean is freezing and it was already 5pm when I made this decision. I was so tired I could barely even feel how cold it was, but it did wake me up. We went out again Friday night and it was awesome.  We went to a dancing place near my house called Medleys and I found a group of locals who came together and were obviously trained hip hop dancers.  When you’re a trained hip hop dancer it’s kind of hard to screw around on a dance floor because to you it’s a medium of art, not just something to do on a Friday night.  I went over and actually started dancing with them.  Not just standing around dancing-with-your-friends dancing, but actual choreography.  We had an amazing time.  They were way better than I was, but it was still a great time because I don’t really care about that.  I was dancing so hard I drank 3 bottles of water while I was out because I was dripping sweat.  My hair was genuinely wet by the end of the night.  The top was wet because my scalp was sweating, and the bottom was wet because my back was completely soaked.  It looked like I had taken a shower by the time I got home.   One of my closest girlfriends here is named Lies (pronounced L-EE-s) and she was leaving on Sunday.  The Old Biscuit Mill was basically a requirement for our last Saturday together because it’s so delicious and unique to Cape Town.  On 3 hours of sleep, we all piled into an uber and went on Saturday morning.  Lies does not take very good care of herself when she goes out.  She’s generally the person who gets kind of annoying because she drinks too much and is 90 pounds.  It gets to the point where we are all out feeling great and just hanging out, and she just blacks-out with no warning and we have to carry her home.  For some reason, she has no problem with this pattern of behavior, but it annoys me because it’s really just not that hard to drink less.  She drank a lot on Friday night, but she seemed to just be hungover so I thought maybe food would make her feel better.  

When we went to the Old Biscuit Mill, she refused to eat or drink anything even though I insisted.  It was very crowded and we were in the very back room of the entire Mill and it was hot.  I was waiting for my steak sandwich (I actually believe it’s the best sandwich in the entire world) and drinking a smoothie and she turns to me and my friend Tanya and says “I’m going to faint”.  She was sitting down and as far as I could tell, looked fine.  I said “Alright let’s get outside to get you some fresh air”.  She refuses to move.  Next thing I know, her entire body seizes up, and she spasms backwards onto the table behind her.  Her eyes were wide open and she was staring right ahead of her.  It looked like an exorcism.  People quickly notice something is very wrong and start freaking out.  She sort of spasms back to sitting, with her eyes still open.  At this point I’m trying to hold her body in one place so she doesn't injure herself. Her head is completely limp and rolling around.  Then she actually collapses and her eyes roll back in her head.  Tanya and I are trying to hold her up, but there are some men around us who grab her and carry her to the floor so she’s laying down in a circle that’s now been cleared in the large crowd.  Now she passes out, actually faints and is completely still.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  Fainting is one thing, but the entire episode looked more like a stroke or a seizure than fainting.  I was shaking head to toe.  A woman runs up and says she’s a doctor and soon Lies is covered in cold compresses because the doctor says she is very dehydrated and overheated.  That may be the case, but none of this would have happened if she didn't drink so much.

  I was very gentle and caring when she woke up, but inside I was actually kind of angry.  It’s so worrying and upsetting to be with a friend who doesn't take care of herself to a point where other people have to do emergency cleanup to make sure she’s okay— this isn't the first time she’s done something like this.  It’s unfair.  The doctor said she just needs sleep and water and some food.  Funny how I had actually insisted on her eating and drinking earlier and she refused to do it until she was literally having a seizure in the middle of the Old Biscuit Mill.  I’m relieved she was okay though.  I took her home immediately after she got her blood sugar up and put her to bed.  I spent the rest of my day sitting outside napping in the sun and talking with Lucas and Tim.  Lucas and Tim were just as annoyed at the situation with Lies as I was, because they’re always the ones who end up carrying her home.  This made me felt less heartless for being a bit upset with her for being that irresponsible. 

On Sunday I had a Township Tour.  This means that a company takes you into a township and shows you around.  The first place we went is called District 6.  District 6 was the first township and now is an area of empty hills covered in litter.  It was an inner-city community and in the 1970s, the residents woke up to the sound of screaming and bulldozers, as the apartheid regime came in and completely destroyed the entire area.  Everything was lost and only 3% of the residents were able to reclaim the land under Nelson Mandela because they didn’t have enough legal paperwork as all of their possessions were bulldozed and then set on fire.  The township we went to next is the oldest surviving township and it’s called Langa.  I was very surprised with what I saw.  I went to Langa a month or so ago for a so-called music festival, and I didn't really remember much.  I forgot how much better Langa is in comparison to Dunoon.  When you drive into Dunoon, the entire place is made out of shanties constructed out of metal and wood scraps.  There is sewage and trash covering the dirt roads that weave through the haphazardly placed shacks.  There is no layout or order.  There are maybe 20 permanent houses in the entire township.   When you drive into Langa, the streets are wide and paved.  The houses are permanent.  There is some litter on the street, but no more than you see in the United States in a poor neighborhood.  We went on a Gospel Tour, which means they take us into a church in one of the townships. 

 It was Easter Sunday and we pulled up to the Langa Methodist Church.  The service had already started and it was absolutely packed.  People were standing in line outside the door waiting to move seats into the aisle so they could fit.  One of the men who worked at the Church came out and greeted us and, miraculously, found space for us in one of the aisles.  There were about 400 people tightly packed into the church.  For the entire time we were there, there was singing.  The choir was behind the pastor and they were absolutely beautiful.  It sounded very similar to the choirs I heard in Italy except they were singing in Xhosa instead of Latin.  Sometimes, the entire church would sing hymns.  It was so beautiful.  People were singing and dancing all in unison.  I looked around and thought “money and religion should be as separate as possible”.  Here I was, in a township, at the most beautiful and spiritual church service I had ever been to and there were no frescoes, no gilded walls, no stained glass windows, nothing.  Just a plain, white church filled with people who could sing and dance with their souls.  When people can do that, it doesn’t matter if it’s a different language, you’ll feel it.  The air in the room was so happy and the people were so spiritually connected to what they were saying that they projected the meaning wordlessly in sound for me.   After the visit to the Church, we went on a walking tour.  Our guide was a local named Sakhe.  At first, I thought he was a little too mild to make a good tour.  I was so wrong.  He was one of the most interesting and articulate people I’ve met here over the last two months.  He showed us how people actually live in Langa. All of my original impressions of it actually being a decent place to live were completely incorrect.  I was right about it being way nicer than Dunoon, but the living conditions were still breathtakingly unfair.  I say unfair instead of bad because the history of the situation makes it so.  Langa was first established as a township for black people under apartheid.  There are four different classes of race during apartheid: black, colored, indian/asian, and white, increasing in status and human right in that order.  The difference between black and colored is whether or not you are somewhat white.  One method they used to differentiate between the two was called the pencil test.  During job interviews (because colored people were more desirable), they would stick a pencil in the person in question’s hair and make them shake their head, if it fell out they were colored if their hair was coarse enough to make it stick, they were black. It’s incredibly fucked up.  Another element of apartheid was Bantu Education. This was the education system all black and colored people were subjected to.  When the system was explained to me, the two parts that really stood out were: 1) The students were only allowed to be educated up until the 10th grade, making employment close to impossible, 2) They could only speak Afrikaans.  The latter did not bother me at first, Afrikaans is the main language spoken in the townships.  As it turns out, this is only because of Bantu Education.  The reason this was is that it is what the Dutch slave masters actually used to speak with the slaves and not what the slaves actually grew up with.  So, the entire language essentially is a reaffirmation of their oppression.  Thus, a lot of people are extremely resentful of it and I didn’t realize this fact until Sakhe told me.  There are about 5 other native languages that are spoken in the townships that some people prefer over Afrikaans because of the historical baggage that comes with it.   When Langa was first created, it was entirely dormitories for black men who worked for white people.  This is not an exaggeration.  The entire township was made out of barracks where 3 or 4 men would sleep in a 10’x10’ room.  In each barrack there are around 16 rooms and a small area with a table and a fireplace.  They were all built in the 1940s and they are still standing almost exactly how they were then.  Now, families live in them.  Each family gets a single bed in a 10x10 room.  Imagine 3 twin beds crammed together so tightly you can barely walk between them in a tiny room, and each family only gets one bed.  That’s how these people are living day to day.  What’s more, they're paying the South African government to live there.  Even further, the South African government said in 1995 that they were going to renovate all of the barracks, but then in 2006 the construction crews literally stopped showing up and nobody in Langa knows why even though they've been reaching out for the past 12 years.  Imagine that, the government abandons you and your quality of life with no explanation.  How ignored would you feel? How disenfranchising is that? Sakhe says that he thinks a large part of it is that, until 1991, white kids were taught in school that black people are sub-human.  That they are closer to apes than white people.  If those kids are now grown up and running the government, why would they care about black peoples’ housing? By the end of the tour, I was so outraged I might go to law school, and I still feel that way.  People need somebody to fight for them, and I am in a position to do that, so hand me the boxing gloves.  

-Q

[masonmecrazy]

I’m not sure about other universities and colleges in the U.S., but my undergraduate university did not have a Reading Week. We had Spring Break and Easter Break. However, in Canada we have Reading Week. Basically we have a week off where we are supposed to catch up on work, relax, and recharge for the second half of the term. Adeptly named, mine always seems to include a lot of reading. This past week (February 12-18) was the week before Reading Week and therefore meant that every single professor had something due or planned.

First was Arrangement and Description where me and my friend Maddy had to turn in our paper on our visit to the Canadian Lesbian and Gay Archives. Over 3000 words basically saying everything wrong with the arrangement of the files and the lack of description takes multiple days and many rounds of editing. It probably wouldn’t take other people multiple days, but it took us multiple days as we weren’t super focused over the weekend. Also smashing two different writing styles together and writing in both Canadian and U.S. English made for a difficult time. We also had class on Tuesday and the paper was due Wednesday night.

On Wednesday I had my final (De)Constructing the Book class. For this class we were presenting books that we had made. By made I mean from start to finish. I had to figure out what topic I wanted to make my book about, fold and cut pages, make a cover, sew the pages into the cover, decorate it, write text, include images and found objects, and write a colophon. If you thought arts and crafts projects as school assignments stopped when you graduated high school you were wrong. Constructing this book took me 12 HOURS!!!! Then I had 4 minutes to tell everything about what materials I chose, why I chose them, what my book means, and why processes I used to construct the book. And then I don’t even get the book back until September because they are going to be exhibited in the main library on campus.

Wednesday night I had night class – Metadata Schemas and Applications. In the middle of the class we get a break and at the break we have been splitting into small groups to talk about a project we are working on. Last week I got to leave at the break and go home…this week I had to stay the whole time. Did I forget to mention earlier that I only got 4 hours of sleep on Tuesday night? I was exhausted by this point and all I wanted to do was go back to my room and go to sleep. Alas we had to do these small groups and it seems like everyone got feedback on their projects except for me so I’m stuck on mine for the foreseeable future.

Tuesday was going to good and bad. Bad first. I had a paper due by midnight … on a topic I really didn’t want to write on … that had to be 12 pages long …. I was on page 7 without any editing. When I don’t want to write on a topic I can find literally anything else to do to put off the paper. By the end of the day though I got it done and that was the last assignment I had to complete before my break could begin. The good part now!!! Instead of sitting in lecture my class was visiting the Toronto City Archives! All the governmental and historical archives for the city since its conception! Behind the scenes tours of the stacks and conservation lab! I know it doesn’t seem cool and exciting to most people but for me it was like a kid in a candy store. Don’t worry – there will be pictures below because words just don’t do it justice so I won’t even try.

Also on Thursday I stopped at Tim Hortons for coffee and its Roll Up the Rim time. This is a competition (?) thing that Tim Hortons does where when you roll up the rim of your coffee cup you can win prizes like free coffee and food, $500 gift cards, a new car, and a new T.V. Trust me, its a big deal in Canada. Anyway I always get a medium coffee with two creams and after finishing my delicious coffee I of course Rolled Up the Rim. Low and behold you are reading the words of a winner!!! I get a free coffee in the not to distant future YAY!!!!!!

Friday rolls around and if you have read the previous post you know what happened then so I won’t repeat myself. Yes, that was a subtle plug to go read the other posts on the blog.

At least for the weekend I will just be relaxing and hanging out with my friends. The weather has been super nice so we have been outside as much as possible before the snow, ice, freezing rain, and horrific wind comes back. Next week I am hoping to get some work done in the first part of the week and then on Wednesday I am flying to Iceland with Dan and Maddy for 4 days in Iceland before we have to get back to work.  Look for a new post in about two weeks or so with tons and tons of pictures from that trip!

The first pictures is my winning Roll Up the Rim cup, followed by the stacks of Government records at the City of Toronto Archives. These are still semi active and after their retention period will be reviewed to determine what will be kept and what will be shredded. The third picture is examples from the Conservation Lab at the City of Toronto Archives. The forth is me, sitting in the elevator, trying not to panic while being trapped. The fifth picture is another picture of the stacks at the City of Toronto Archives. On the right are the government records that are in semi-active use but aren’t needed for day-to-day operations, and on the left are historical documents that have been collected from everywhere imaginable pertaining to the history of Toronto.

Winning Roll Up the Rim cup!

Toronto City Archives: Government archives

Toronto City Archives: Conservation Lab

Trying to not panic while stuck in the elevator

Toronto City Archives

Toronto City Archives: Historical Archives

Lead Up to Reading Week I'm not sure about other universities and colleges in the U.S., but my undergraduate university did not have a Reading Week.